"
Her voice was strange, and she turned away. "Something serious, I dare
say," she said.
"No, no!" said I, reading and reading again. "Look, it's not so very bad!
Hear what it says. 'Request you come at once--accident to your wife.'"
It was an express telegram from the little town, the little dead town.
Yes, that was it--a town with a roar of sound through it, and a long
bridge, and foaming waters; all cries there died as they were uttered--
none could hear. And there were no birds.
But all the maids spoke now in changed voices; 'twas nothing but misery
amongst us now; I had to appear steady and confident myself, to reassure
them. Fruen might have had a fall, perhaps, she was not as active of late.
But she could, perhaps, have got up again and walked on almost as well as
ever--just a little bleeding.... Oh, they were so quick with their
telegrams, these police folk!
"No, no!" said Ragnhild. "You know well enough that when the Chief of
Police sends a telegram it's pretty sure to mean Fruen's been found dead
somewhere! Oh, I can't--I can't--can't bear it!"
Miserable days! I worked away, harder than ever, but as a man in his
sleep, without interest or pleasure.
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